


Out in the Night

by AlwaysAmused



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Transgender Character, Happy birthday Ned!!, Here's a fic that features just you for once!!, Ned's a good thief, Pre-game Ned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 16:00:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12279801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysAmused/pseuds/AlwaysAmused
Summary: In the 1850s, Ned Wynert doesn't exist. Not quite yet. There is simply Ned, and he is a burglar following friends for profit by night.And he is very, very good at it.Well. If "good" means "doesn't get shot," anyway.





	Out in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Assassin's Creed

The bedroom door was shut and the house was still, but his light was still on, his hair pulled up under a hat, poking out at odd angles. He only needed a little more, just a _little more_ money, and he was free from this, free from _her_ and _them_ and _this_.

He turned his light off, hitched up his pants again, and opened the window, climbing out and shimmying down to the ground. It wasn’t as dangerous as it seemed; he had a good grip on the side of the house, and he was invisible from the street due to a tree standing before his window. Truly, it was a wonder that no one had tried to rob the house before.

His feet hit the ground and he triple-checked that he had everything, pulled his hat a little more over his bespectacled face, and made his way off his family’s grounds. New York was lively as it always was, and no one spared him a second glance as he walked down the street, a messenger bag slung over his shoulder. He knew his destination; it was a place he’d been before so many times he didn’t even remember the proper address, only a jumble of instructions. Turn left here, right there, go straight for a while. Then bam, you arrive.

The alley was a nice spot; you could climb up and no one could tell, especially since he was so light and lithe. “The perfect cat-burglar,” Isaac had described him once. It was nice, a large difference from the descriptions he usually got. Words like “pretty” and “sweetheart” and “terrifying,” although he didn’t mind the last one so much. But _sneaky_ , and _quick_ , and _intelligent_ … Those words made him feel more like himself. Like _Ned_ rather than _Netta_.

He took pride in that, and smiled when he saw that his friend had already arrived. Had he not been looking, Isaac would have blended in perfectly with the shadows, but the light caught his cigarette smoke. Isaac pulled it out of his mouth when he saw Ned approaching.

“Oh, it’s you. Evening, punk. Got any plans tonight?” He asked, slipping his hands into his pockets. Ned tilted his head.

“I did, but if you’ve got something more interesting, I’m all ears.”

Isaac grinned. _Sneaky_. “I’ve gotten a tip-off about a transfer being made tonight.”

“Jewels?”

“Better. _Cash_. Cold hard cash, kid.”

Ned raised his eyebrows and walked with Isaac, willing to ignore the jab at his youth. “I’m listening.”

“There’s going to be a transfer down in Brooklyn tonight,” Isaac said. “We need someone quick to get in and out. We can get you there and provide a getaway.”

“…How much cash are we talking about here?” Ned asked, crossing his arms. “I don’t go for a couple of tens when I’ve got something here I know I can get more for.”

Isaac shrugged a shoulder. “There’s a couple hundred. We’d be splitting it.”

“How many ways?”

“Three. You me, and a friend.”

Ned thought about it, narrowing his eyes. “And who’s money is this?”

“Bowery Boys. An exchange from a politician to a representative of theirs. We’ll take care of them, but we need someone convincing to handle taking the money instead.”

Ned frowned. “Huh. And you think I’m your man?”

“Well, the guy the Boys are sending is a measly half-pint with glasses. You fit the bill, punk.”

Ned’s frown deepened. “If you’re going to insult me, our conversation is over.”

Isaac lifted his hands. “Alright, alright, I take it back. Look, _I_ know you can throw a punch, but it doesn’t change the fact that you look like you need to eat a couple hundred sandwiches. You’re _skinny_ , Ned.”

“Oh yeah, it’s almost like I wear a fucking _corset_ in the daytime,” Ned said sarcastically. “You try that for a couple of weeks and _then_ we’ll see who’s ‘a measly half-pint.’”

“Fair enough.” They’d stopped in front of a carriage, and Isaac opened the door. “So, what’s your say? Are you going to join us tonight? I’ve got a suit that’ll fit you in a pinch. I’ll take out the representative, you’ll change in here, and we’ll swap you out.”

It was dangerous, Ned thought. But if they were successful, the payoff, oh the _wonderful profits_ …

“We’re splitting three ways?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I want forty percent of the profits.”

Isaac raised his eyebrows. “That’s fine with me. Georgie?”

The man at the front of the carriage shrugged. “Fine. But if he dies, I want his share.”

“He won’t,” Isaac warned. Georgie made a disbelieving noise and Isaac turned back to Ned. “Well?”

It was risky, _definitely_ risky. But then, Ned thought, these things always were. “I’m in,” he said. Isaac grinned and followed him into the carriage, giving him the details and a pistol, “Just in case.”

* * *

The sky was a dusty color, and Ned, Isaac, and Georgie were slumped in an alleyway. They were all tired, and alright, _maybe_ George had gotten shot, but it was fine now. They’d made a less-than-clean getaway, but they were there now in relatively one piece, and Isaac was counting money.

“So?” Ned asked, taking a cigarette from George, taking a drag, and handing it back. “What’s my takeaway here?”

Isaac had counted the money out twice. It was in a briefcase, and Ned had seen that much money in one place before, but it never failed to give him a little bit of joy.

“We have,” Isaac said, “four thousand dollars.”

Ned and George both stared at him, dumbstruck. “Four _thousand_?” George said. “Jee _sus_ , man, I thought you said _hundreds_ before!”

“I thought it was going to be hundreds!”

Ned did the mental calculations. “So, I get a clean sixteen-hundred?”

Isaac snorted and counted it out. “Forty percent, as agreed upon. You’d better get home now, before someone notices.”

Ned grinned, pocketed the money, and stood, tipping his hat. “Pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen,” he said as George gaped at him.

As he walked off, he heard George mutter, “If I shoot him from here I could still-” And then a resounding _thwap_ as Isaac smacked him. Ned grinned smugly, feeling the nice weight of cash in his pocket. He got home before the sun rose over the horizon, feeling exhausted but satisfied, and closed his window behind him as he crawled to his room. He undressed, shoving his clothes under the bed, and let his hair out.

 _One more week,_ he thought as he brushed and braided his hair. He washed the grim off his face and undid the bindings around his chest, then pulled on a nightgown, getting into bed. He’d sort through the money later, count his savings later. For now, he had a couple of hours before the maid came in to wake “her” up. _One more week,_ he thought again and smiled as he pulled the blankets over his head, finally giving in to his exhaustion, and falling deeply asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> So it's Ned Wynert's birthday today, and I wanted to write something. Isaac is a character my girlfriend DaughterOfDungeonBat and I have, Georgie doesn't exist and I kinda made him up to have another person. Hope you enjoyed!


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